a rambly entry.
written: 9:47 p.m. on Wednesday, Oct. 18, 2006

Also, I'm never going to sit behind KW ever again because sitting behind him made me feel damn stupid. He and Shaun pretty much talked for everyone else, with Daryl Y and Isa piping up occasionally. GOD, what is it with guys and their penchant for Company Law? Unfortunately osmosis so did not work for me, because if it did I wouldn't walk out of class feeling so stupid and annoyed that I was actually compelled to walk back in and ask my tutor for help.

It was such a JC thing to do but my feelings - or, more accurately, severe shortage of it - towards Company is pretty much the same as towards Contract, except this time I really do not want to get a C, hence the change in attitude. I see myself going down the same damn path and I'm like, Shit, this isn't gonna happen again.

Because it gets tiring. It gets excruciatingly boring to predict your grades with such immense accuracy that it makes you wonder why the hell can't you predict the results of the lottery with the same degree of accuracy. The latter would at least make you happy, and give you, like purchasing power to splurge at Guess et. al. The former? It depresses you. Period. It throws you into confusion and induces you to second-guess yourself, makes you feel inferior to your peers, but fortunately your pride steps up to the plate and declares, That's fucking bullshit.

And finally, you're done making excuses: Oh I don't study anyway. True as it may be, you know it's a fucked up thing to say because that's so not what you're supposed to do. I mean, I don't think anyone's parents pay $6000 a year to a university to let their kid squander her time away, right?

I watched Episode 2 of Six Degrees last night and the hot grey-haired photographer who's an ex-alcoholic finally got his act together and cleaned up his apartment - a clear metaphor (well, obvious and trite, too) for cleaning up his life. The hotness of the actor notwithstanding, I loved that scene because it totally spoke to me. If I had the capacity to take a sponge and start cleaning my room, that's exactly what I'd do.

But since I'm lazy, I'm just gonna write about it.

(Note: Jay Hernandez's character is a public defender! OMG that is so hot. And as per movies/TV shows set in New York, the prosecutor is a complete asshole.)

So yeah. Realisation of the Day. Or whatever.

Anyway, my dad rocks. I wish I had the kind of knowledge he has about Chineseness - our culture, history, traditions, whatever. All I know is that Chinese emperors were super tyrannical, human rights were non-existent...but that's the thing. They were non-existent, but they were not inconceivable. Equality is a concept that's really quite universal. In CLT last week it was revealed to me that human rights isn't a universal concept, but a traditionally Christian one, and it kind of threw me into some form of confusion whereby I found it difficult to reconcile that and the fact that I'm Chinese (too lazy to explain this. Wait for a more in-depth exploration in my first novel. Um, haha). But over dinner tonight, my dad got from ranting about today's state of Taiwanese politics to Malaysia's racial discrimination to talking about equality and how some super erudite Chinese person in the past wrote a super profound phrase about putting the people first and the emperor last. Equality, in other words.

It'd be much easier to grapple with such cultural conflicts if I actually knew my own culture. Which is why I so want to go to Taiwan for exchange, but NTU (National Taiwan University, mind you) is sadly not a partner university. DAMMIT.

I could go to China but I don't wanna because I don't like China and I don't like the way PRCs speak. I mean, it's nice, and I have nothing against it, but I'm really not used to it. If I were to spend a year speaking, reading and writing Chinese, I have to do it in a (de facto) country where I'm actually comfortable with the people's accents and whatnot.

I also realised last night that being a Singaporean writer (and I mean, REAL writer, not local journalists who totally don't count) is pretty much an uphill battle. You can't really use proper English for dialogue because it's not true to your subject matter, assuming you're writing about life in Singapore, which you would naturally write about because it's what you're familiar with, and all writers start off by writing about things that they're familiar with (which is why a lot of first novels are semi-autobiographical, like Julian Barnes' Metroland which I really, really love). But if you write in Singlish, you'd worry about alienating international audiences, and every writer would want to reach an international audience at SOME point in time.

And I think that's why Mammon Inc is so tourist guide-ish. But if you really wanna know, solving this problem is a lot more intriguing than fighting a corporate case. Maybe that's just me.

I started reading JB's Arthur and George and oh my god, I am so in love. I hate it so much that I can't read it all the time because there's school and I want to get no C's this semester because I wanna go for exchange, yadayada. Damn! And I so love how he took about 30 pages to reveal George's race to the reader. You'd think that he'd introduce it at the very beginning, when he's writing about the two protagonists' childhood, which is why I was wondering if I read something wrongly somewhere 'cause he hasn't mentioned George's being Indian. But he takes his time to introduce the fact, and when he does so the impact is so powerful because it's an introduction of his race coupled with an outright discrimination against him because of his race - hence setting the tone (and scene) for the rest of the novel.

God, if only I could write half as well as him. I read his article titled The Follies of Writer Worship and I kind of get where he's coming from (basically, the writer's life is separate from his writing and can't provide significant insight to the intention of his writing, which goes against what was forced down my throat in Prac Crit last year, which was horrible experience) but given the chance to own, like, a pen he's used to write a very important novel or something, I'd totally jump at it. I'm such a fangirl and JB totally disapproves but I can't help it. Besides, he used to own a purported piece of Somerset Maugham's gate. Haha. Fandom-ism is rife in every one of us.

I'm going to start reading Flaubert really soon, despite the fact that he's French (I hate reading translated works). Flaubert to JB is like JB to me; hence.

In other news, I got Simon to be my witness for the mock trial! Wahoo. Simon is going to play Simon Cower. Hahahahaha. (And yes, it's a not-so-subtle disguise of Simon Cowell.) Hopefully he can make it for my trial date; otherwise, I'd just die. I don't know enough males to find another person willing to do this thing for me. I thought of asking Arthur K. but heck, I don't want to embarrass myself in front of him 'cause I actually care what he thinks of me, and it's absolutely crucial that he still thinks of me as Jurong's best GP student, like, ever.

Okay, so not 'ever', but...well, maybe 'ever' in terms of his three years teaching there. Hahahaha.

I was thinking of trying for Warwick for exchange so that I can do their writing programme and make up for the chance I passed on, but Warwick isn't on the list. DAMN, my life sucks. Maybe I should try for English universities, the ones I passed on, to do their Literature modules.

I told my mom that she'd need to spend A LOT if I get to go for exchange because of, like, tuition and lodging and travelling expenses. When she heard the last one, she went, What travelling expenses? You're going there to study!

I countered, Uh, the whole point of going overseas...is to go overseas.

How very reminiscent of Troy's "The whole point of going to the prom...is to go to the prom" to Keith in "Meet John Smith".

I'm sure no one (except Rui, maybe) got that.

I need to read Mortgages now.

**

Edited to add:

FUCK. Some idiotic woman keeps yelling at the top of her lungs at some undisclosed and unnamed individual. It's fucking 12.41 a.m. and usually I hear nothing but my air-con whirring...away, but now? The silence is invaded by her inconsiderately querulous and LOUD yellings. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HER. And this is SO not the first time; it's happened on too many occasions to keep track. I wouldn't be surprised if my dad suddenly wakes up because of her, and it's really not like he doesn't have enough trouble sleeping as it is. ASSHOLE.

If only I knew who it is, where the shouting is coming from - but I don't. I wouldn't be surprised at all if she's shouting at her maids because the majority of Singaporeans do not respect their maids because they're (the Singaporeans) total IDIOTS. I can't stand people who think that maids are somehow less of a human being because they're maids, 'cause that's absolutely retarded and wrong. And sadly, there are way too many people out there who subscribe to that view - which is so horrible that I don't understand at all how ANYONE can possibly think that way.

Okay, I've digressed. I wanted to rant about the woman 'cause I have no one to rant to so yeah, there you go. And hmm, she seems to have shut up already. Hopefully the newfound peace and quiet lasts, or I'll be very, very angry.

Tan SY's chapter on Mortgages is 60 pages. What the fuck. I read three pages and decided to shower and it's like 12.47 and I haven't done anything more. I'm dead. And I still have to do my trial advo tutorial. ARGH.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010